


Beyond Boredom

by AbbodonAbandon



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Creepy BB, Formal event, Gen, Hanging Out, child BB, child L, gen - Freeform, perturbed L, whammy's era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbodonAbandon/pseuds/AbbodonAbandon
Summary: BB and L hang out(For the Secret Shinigami Exchange)





	

**Author's Note:**

> First time poster, so here goes. Comment with any constructive criticism you have, please!

L had never liked Wammy’s charity events. Sure, he understood charity held a high place of importance in helping the poor and disadvantaged, but the practice of wealthy politicians inviting Wammy to events to “thank him for his wonderful contributions to society” had always bored him. Surely all the money put into making the events happen could have been diverted to actually helping the less well off. Though, he doubted that the politicians really cared that much.   
But as he sat, legs pulled to his chest in the of the backmost tables, the stiff material of his suit rubbing uncomfortably against him, he had to admit that he had more than that reason for not wanting to be there. Along with the event being incredibly boring, the board-like suit he had been forced into bit uncomfortably harsh into his skin.   
L sighed, shifting in his seat. His hands, ever restless, stroked the buttons of his cuff, intermittently tugging at them when he felt the urge. The formalities had stretched on for what felt like hours, and the dull backs of the elderly men and women in front of him held little interest. For the one hundred and thirteenth time, L’s eyes roved over the people before him, catching on any familiar or vaguely intriguing faces.   
Roger sat to his far left, seemingly engrossed in the proceedings, his left hand clasped around Wammy’s, eyes near glowing. L snorted; of course Roger would appreciate the speeches.   
Shifting, his eyes passed over the chairman’s son, having come late to avoid his father, no doubt, and- His eyes stuck. Behind him, positioned so awkwardly adjacent to him that he had previously been a nonentity, sat a boy. A most intriguing boy. He wore the same black suit as L, and L imagined they would have looked quite similar even without that. The boy’s hair was a dark brown, probably only a shade or two off from L’s own hair, and the slant of his features, although dissimilar, held a murky yet somehow uncanny resemblance to L’s own. A memory brushed through L’s mind of a boy-shaped blob being ushered into the auditorium behind him, Roger mumbling something chiding as the blob slid into the seat diagonal to him.   
As L watched, his numbing boredom bubbling under the surface, his eyes caught on something truly interesting. The boy's fingers were moving.   
It was a soft, silent movement, the kind that took L’s eyes and skills to be able to pick up, even at such a close distance. But it was a familiar movement, too. Two fingers, fast and delicate as moths, tugged at a loose thread in the boy’s jacket.   
L snorted; he didn’t doubt that the boy had loosened it himself. As he watched, he found himself leaning forward. Slightly. His breath had caught in his throat. The fingers kept fluttering, faster than before. L’s button lay forgotten.   
“Stop staring at me.” The voice, quiet yet hard, jolted L from his thoughts. If his fingers had still been fondling his button he would have no doubt ripped it off. L’s head turned fully, and he regarded the boy behind him, eyes drawn neutral. The boy’s murky eyes burned.   
“I said stop staring!” He hissed. A fist clenched, flexed, released. Fascinating.   
“I wasn't.” L kept his tone even. Despite that, he felt a trickle of amusement leak into his eyes. The boy… snarled. Lips pulled, face feral. Back hunched. (Protecting his organs? L shook those implications aside.)   
“You were.” The boy's voice rang deadly calm.   
“Nope.” L smirked.   
In the next second L felt himself flying into the floor. Above him, the boy snarled.   
WHAM! Pain blossomed from L’s skull.   
His arm shot out, fist balled. Fire seared his hand as it cracked into the other’s face. Growling?!   
Claws raked him, L twisting so- Rough hands dragged them apart.   
L blinked once. Twice. The room around them stood silent.   
Patient and harsh and exhausted, a gruff voice said, “Outside. Now.” Whammy didn't have to say he was disappointed.   
The gruff hand latched onto his stiff collar, dragging him out into the hall alongside the other boy. Roger looked on disapprovingly. L squashed the urge to stick his tongue out at him.   
Once they were hidden behind the doorway from the main room, Wammy dropped them. L tried not to stumble.   
“Just what do you think you two are doing?” Wammy’s voice creaked as he near wheezed out the words. A pang of worry stung L, quickly drowned by the boy’s response.   
“He was staring! I don't like it when they stare…” The boy's voice dropped to a mumble.   
Sighing, Wammy turned to the boy. “What did I tell you, B? About hitting people?”   
Hunching in on himself, “B” mumbled out, “Don't do it.”   
“Right, -”   
A head peeked out from the doorway. “Quillsh! They need you onstage!”   
Wammy breathed. “I'll be put in a minute.”   
“They need you now.”   
Only the twitch of an eyelid betrayed Wammy’s true disgruntlement. “Fine,” he now addressed L and B. “You two, sit here and think about what you've done. When I get back, we're talking.” He held a hard stare with them for moments. With a last urgent call from the head to “come on!”, Wammy left.   
They stood, eyes avoiding contact.   
Realizing he gained nothing from standing, L slumped against the wall. To his side the hollow thump alerted him to B sliding down beside him.   
For what seemed like hours, they sat permeated in tense silence. L’s back hunched against the wall, mind drifting idly as he again pulled at his coat sleeve. There was something uniquely grounding about the smoothness of a button. After a few (what seemed like) minutes, something in the corner of his vision jilted. Tense. Hands in claws. Button caught between his nails. L, still and tense, strained his eyes outward and- Oh. B was at it again. His hands juddering as they tore at the fabric of his coat.   
The slight scrape of nail against fabric. A loud hiss. “What did I tell you about staring ?!” Some strange quality shining in B’s eyes dried the taunts bubbling against his mouth. Just like looking in a mirror…   
L twitched, leaning forward. B growled uncertainly.   
“You know, the buttons are better.”   
Swaying slightly, B stared at him.   
“They’re smooth.”   
B nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But I like the threads better. They resist.”   
L wagered, then allowed his lips to lift slightly. “I can see that being nice.”   
“It is. Makes me less…” B slumped slightly, sliding back into a resting position. The silence that followed was soft.   
L sighed, leaning back into the wall as he turned his body more towards B. Really, it was eerie how similar they looked. B’s eyes were a few shades warmer, a murky brown, and he was a few inches shorter than L, though he did seem to be younger than him. Even the way he held himself reminded L of himself.   
“Adults don’t get us.”   
B looked up, almost startled. Something in his eyes glowed. “They don’t. Not really. Sometimes they’re, they’re,” His eyes darted around the room, as if afraid one of the “adults” would jump out at him. “Fucking stupid.” The curse breathed out as a rusty whisper, B’s eyes still straining to see around himself.   
“Yeah.” Another moment of silence drifted between them.   
“Roger never lets me do what I want.” B’s hands had drifted back to yanking on his coat threads. “He’s always saying, ‘That’s not appropriate!’” A mocking rendition of Roger’s warble hissed from B’s mouth, tainted with scorn. “Everyone’s always in my way.” He muttered. A strange shiver slithered down L’s spine. Slightly, he pulled back.   
“I know the feeling. Adults never let you do what you want.” A frown crept over L’s lips. “Watari always badgers me about eating cake. According to him, there’s such a thing as ‘too much of a good thing.’”   
“Yeah,” Laughed B. It was a bright, soft sound, like a deer edging forward in the forest. The malice from earlier was gone. L found his body edging itself forward. “He yells at me for eating jam all the time. But I love strawberry, and it’s just not the same when they’re whole.”   
“Mmm. Strawberries are the best.” L had quite a taste for them himself…   
“I guess we’ll have to have strawberry jam cake together one day.” B’s smile had lost its timidness.   
“Yes.” It did sound quite inviting, strawberry jam in cake. And it didn’t hurt that B’s personality seemed to lie quite close to his own, despite his… strangeness, and since they lived in the same orphanage (he assumed; how else could B know both Roger and Wammy?), that would make seeing each other much easier. Speaking of which… “Why haven’t I seen you around before? I know you’re in Wammy’s…”   
Something inside B seemed to quaver, his expression flattening. “That’s strange.” Curled claws tugged at B’s jacket. His eyes stared at the threads. “I don’t really ‘get out’ much.”   
“Ah.” L nodded. His body tensed.  
“They -they don’t get me. Like you said. But they don’t like me, either.” B breathed. His eyes seemed to search the room again for adults. As if still not satisfied, B leaned in closer. His brown eyes burned. “They’re always looking at me funny. They’re scared of me.” B hissed in the barest of whispers. For a second, he hung before L, before pulling back.   
“Oh.” the feeling was back. Stronger. L felt his muscles tense. “Well they’re wrong.”   
“I don’t think they are.” B muttered. Ropy black threads lay pooled on the floor. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” Brown eyes finally met his, wide and unsettlingly earnest. L wondered if he would have to lie.   
Words broiled in his mind as yet more words slipped out. “Of course not. We’re quite similar, actually. The others are afraid of me, too.” His mind fell silent. B smiled, timid yet feral.   
“I could see that…” B’s eyes gleamed. “No one likes to feel lesser.”   
The feeling from before, stronger now, slithered through L. “I never did get your full name.” He almost winced at the half-strangled whisper. B’s lips pulled tight.   
“They call me Backup. But you can call me Beyond.”   
“Beyond?” Despite himself, the words slipped. “What kind of name is that?” Beyond’s eyes narrowed.   
“Better than L Law-li-et.” He smirked. Stood up. As the sound of clapping spilled into the darkened hall, L choked. He had never told Beyond his name.   
“How did you-”   
Watari stepped through the doorway. “B, come with me. And you,” He turned to L. “I’ll fetch you when I’m done with him.”   
Contritely, L nodded, sinking back to the floor. Without another glance, Beyond rose to follow Watari out of the hallway. For what seemed like hours after Beyond had gone, L could still feel his eyes burning into him.

 

It had been a few weeks since the charity event, and for the most part L had been able to push their conversation to the back of his mind. His studies, though mostly dull, had stayed arduous enough to allow for him to block everything out. Especially his thoughts concerning a certain boy who looked quite like himself.   
Shaking his head slightly to dislodge that line of thought, he stepped into his room. And stiffened. Someone had been in there.   
The sprawl of sheets on his bed had been dislodged. Disrupted. Even the air felt different. Heavier. Eyes narrowing, L stalked forward.   
His eyes roved the room as he advanced. His possessions, from what he could tell, remained untouched. It was just the bed that had been desecrated, then.   
When he reached the bed, head looming over as his eyes stared down into the brightly white sheets, he stopped. His hand stretched poised above the covers. Did he really want to know what Beyond had left him? It couldn’t have been anyone else… He felt it,that same shiver from before.   
Bracing himself, he leaned down, spidery hands yanking the covers back sharply. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he let it out.   
On his bed sat a small white box. Taped to the top, a note read; “For L Lawliet :) - Beyond”   
L laughed, fingers twitching for an imaginary button. Calming, he stilled. There was no use in waiting.   
Fingers dug into and tore apart the packaging. Grey eyes widened.   
A small smile lifted L’s lips; inside the box, wrapped carefully so it wouldn’t get squished, lay a lone piece of- “Strawberry jam cake.” He breathed. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Beyond.”


End file.
